


Ever On and On

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Boromir Lives, King Aragorn, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Boromir accompanies his king on a journey to meet his subjects but his thoughts are still unsettled.





	Ever On and On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



They had been days riding, and Boromir had spent more time than he liked thinking. He didn't like being so deep in his own mind, but the tedium and lack of conversation partners had forced him to it. He missed the hobbits for their talk, even if much of it had been inquiries about meals. It would certainly have dulled the awkwardness now that he was alone with the king. Now, night was falling and Boromir was thinking only of the nearest inn and a bed there and the relief sleep would provide. 

"You have been quiet, Boromir."

"My king, I—" He could not make the words come. Every interaction he saw between King Estel and his subjects was a reminder of Boromir's own initial skepticism. Those memories left a hollow in his stomach which mixed with memories of his father and his promised legacy which was not to be. 

Boromir swallowed hard, realizing Aragorn expected him to continue. "My king, I was just thinking how well you speak with the people. They truly love you." 

Aragorn smiled. "They love you just as well. You were raised among these people while I was not."

"My father never rode among the people. They do not know me."

Aragorn dismounted suddenly without answering him. "Let us camp here for the night."

"Camp?" Boromir dismounted, puzzled as he was. 

"Yes. Why not, for one night? It will be too dark when we reach the next town, and I am weary of riding." 

Boromir began to gradually feel more relaxed as they set about starting a fire and picketing their horses. It reminded him of their time on the road. Here in the flickering firelight, he could pretend Aragorn was not the king, but simply Strider the Ranger as they shared the food from their saddlebags.

"I miss moments like this," Aragorn said, breaking the companionable silence that had enveloped them. "Perhaps that is why I declined to ride to the next village tonight." There was a small flare in the darkness as he let his pipe. 

"As do I." Boromir half feared to give voice to his unease, but it was easier to do so in the dark where Aragorn could not see him. 

"My kingship need not all be taxes, you know."

Boromir looked up sharply at the swift change of topic. So Aragorn had noticed the chief way Boromir spent his time. He had been determined to make himself into a competent administrator as he could no longer do all that a warrior should have been able to do, since Amon Hen. That was best left to Faramir now, and Boromir would not see himself be useless. 

"I want to help you in the ways I can." 

"You have done much to help me, my faithful steward." 

Boromir's heartbeat quickened as the old frisson of desire returned. In the dark, he could sense Aragorn laying his pipe aside. 

The king's lips were rough and tasted of smoke and the promise of a long journey. 

"Tell me your mind, Boromir," Aragorn said. 

Before he could help himself it all came pouring out, there in the darkness under the moon. How he felt unworthy of his office, unworthy even to be alive after Amon Hen. 

"I understand your feelings." Aragorn squeezed his shoulder. "I have felt half myself since being crowned." 

"But how?"

Aragorn smiled. "I have been prepared for this all my life, and yet I still fear usurping your legacy. The people of Gondor are loyal to you. Not to me. That is why I hope you will help me as I introduce myself to them."

"Of course, my king." Boromir's shoulder seemed to ache less under Aragorn's fingers. "In whatever way I can."

"I believe I can do this with you at my side."

Boromir felt himself shiver as Aragorn's arms came up to hold him more firmly and their lips met again. They might not be near the end of their journey, for they could take all the time they liked, but Boromir no longer dreaded returning to Minas Tirith and the work of building a kingdom that lay before them.


End file.
